Coming Home
by Dawnstorm101
Summary: DEFINITE GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL. 2 SPOILERS AND POTENTIAL INFINITY WAR SPOILERS WITHIN. It's been 30 years since Peter's abduction and his run-in with Ego, and suddenly his buried emotions about both things are brought to the surface at the same very bad time, creating a path Peter definitely doesn't want to walk. Clint, of all people, tries to talk him into walking it anyway.


A/N: _**DEFINITE GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL. 2 SPOILERS AND POTENTIAL INFINITY WAR SPOILERS BELOW.**_

So I've been daydreaming about Peter getting his powers back and that kinda blends with wondering how Infinity War will turn out. I am so looking forward to Peter meeting Tony, but I started imagining Clint becoming Peter's new arrow dad (which kinda  
got adjusted to brother when I realized Clint is only 8 or 9 years older than Peter), and now my brain won't shut up about that. So this fanfic is basically just me slapping together a bunch of headcanons, none of which I'm really expecting to come  
true (except... maybe... powers? Pretty please Marvel?), and my feels. Maybe it's plausible, maybe it's not, but I just had to write this. Even though I should definitely be asleep.

* * *

Peter sat on the luxurious maroon couch, his legs stretched out, his fingers drumming against the armrest, half-listening to the others talk about defeating Thanos. There were heroes scattered all throughout the large living room, too many to fit into  
even Stark's largest briefing room, and many of them were far smarter than Peter. Therefore, he felt no guilt when he gave up trying to sort through the squabbling of too many big brains and dominant personalities and let himself stare out the window.

New York City. It had been nothing but a fable to little Peter, a legend his small-town childhood could hardly dream was real. Then Yondu had taken him, and he grew up visiting the sprawling, technologically advanced capitols of alien worlds, and it had  
seemed impossible to big Peter that little ole Earth could have anything comparable. And yet, here he sat, near the top of a towering, cleanly self-powered skyscraper, gazing out over a crowded city full of technology little Peter had never dreamed  
of. Big Peter was amazed, and honestly a little proud, that they had come so far so fast.

But it had made Earth colder. The people were isolated, their faces always buried in their phones. Everyone was so busy trying not to hurt anyone's precious feelings that no one could say anything without being rude or insulting to someone. Car horns  
wailed endlessly. Kids begged to go inside to play videogames instead of gathering bumps and bruises playing outside. Parents were afraid to leave their kids, women afraid to go out alone or at night.

Part of Peter wished he had never come back. Most of him did, really. He missed his happy daydreams of a quiet, pleasant planet, of a people blissfully unaware of intergalactic problems.

His daydreams of a world where Mom was alive to welcome him back.

Gamora, settled beside him on the couch, took his hand and squeezed gently. Blinking vigorously, he tugged himself away from such thoughts and back to the conversation at hand.

"We need more juice," Stark was saying from his place beside a wall, a transparent screen beside him displaying all sorts of data. "Thanos is powerful enough without six Infinity Stones. Just one of those things is enough to kill us all."

"We can attest to that," Rocket muttered from Gamora's other side. Standing behind the couch, Groot nodded solemnly; Peter winced, the agony of holding the Power Stone a sharp memory even now.

"But where are we going to find such power?" Barton asked, leaning against the chair that the Maximoff girl sat in. "We don't know of anyone else on Earth, and there isn't time for us to go search all of space."

"I think…" Gamora began hesitantly, shooting an apologetic glance at Peter, "I think I know where to get some more power."

 _Oh no,_ Peter realized, widening his eyes and shaking his head vehemently at her.

Captain America, the legend whose trading cards little Peter had once collected, looked at her sharply. "Where?" he demanded, pushing off the wall opposite Stark.

"Missouri," she replied, avoiding Peter's gaze. The Guardians stared at her in various degrees of horror, realizing what traitorous can of worms she had just opened, but the others stared at her in confusion.

Romanoff, standing next to Barton, voiced their confusion. "What do you even know about Missouri?"

"Not much," Gamora admitted, "but I know plenty about Peter."

The room's sole teenager, looking far too comfortable hanging from the ceiling, looked confused for a brief moment before Stark waved his hand, silently reminding him that he wasn't the only heroic Peter anymore. But Peter didn't notice, too busy yanking  
his hand away from Gamora.

"I won't do it," he snapped, betrayal burning through him. "You know I won't."

"The universe needs you, Peter," she cajoled, pain glimmering in her eyes. "Earth needs you."

"And I'll save it any way but that," Peter hissed.

"I am Groot," the grown tree pointed out, reaching out to pat Peter's knee.

Peter jumped to his feet, backing away. "I don't care that she has a point!"

"Wait," Stark broke in, "do you have superpowers or something?"

He had his back to her now, but Peter was sure Maximoff's eyes were glowing scarlet as she murmured, "Or something."

"Get out of my damn head," he snarled at her. "Someone call me back when you've come up with a plan that involves my _blasters._ "

With that, he stormed off, his dramatic exit somewhat ruined by the need to dodge around the people scattered about the room. He walked blindly, wandering the white-tiled halls until he heard footsteps approaching.

"Leave me alone, Gamora," he muttered, resolutely not turning around.

"Last I checked, I was neither green, nor a woman, nor named Gamora," a distinctly male voice replied, the footsteps coming to a halt.

Peter slowly turned around, mildly surprised to see Barton. "There's no way they came up with a plan that fast."

"You're absolutely right," the archer agreed. "It took far longer when there were only six of us, let alone now."

"So why are you here?" Peter asked, a little more harshly than he'd intended. "You don't know me, let alone how to convince me to go back."

Barton leaned against the wall. "That is also true. So why don't we start with you telling me what Gamora was talking about?"

"I don't know, why should we start there?" Peter shot back, crossing his arms.

Barton's head tilted slightly, considering Peter for a moment. "Nat – Romanoff – was like you once, you know. Defensive about her past, reluctant to use her skills, et cetera. I was the one who helped her move past her hang-ups." He paused, then shrugged  
a little. "Well, I started the process, anyway. I'm sure my family and Fury helped her out of that funk too."

Peter's mind latched on to one word. "Your family," he breathed.

Barton's eyes narrowed, catching something in his expression. "Yeah, my family." He reached into the pocket of his black tactical uniform and pulled out a folded, tattered picture of five people, holding it out to Peter. "Laura's my wife, and the kids  
are Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel. The kids call her Aunty Nat."

Peter took it, looking wistfully at the woman holding a baby and the man with his arm around a boy and the girl on his lap.

"That could've been me," he murmured. "Me and Mantis and our family."

"Wait, you and Mantis are siblings?" Barton exclaimed. "But-"

"Half," Peter corrected, handing the picture back. "Same father, different mothers."

Barton tucked the picture away. "I thought you were human?"

"Again, half," Peter replied. "My mother was human, but my father was a Celestial – a god, basically."

"Damn," Barton commented, quickly snapping his jaw shut as it dropped.

Peter shook his head. "Don't envy me, or Mantis. For a reason that's better explained at a different time, he killed both of our mothers, and we had to kill him before he destroyed the universe."

"Damn," Barton repeated, quieter. "I'm… sorry? But what does that have to do with- _Oh._ You two inherited powers from him, didn't you?"

"Just me," Peter confirmed with a sigh. "Really frickin' cool powers, and immortality. But that died with him."

"So you don't want to use these powers because they come from the man who killed your mother," Barton concluded, speaking slowly, as if working things out mentally. "Makes sense. But how would you use them, if they died with your father?"

"Ego, uh, planted seeds of sorts on many different planets. They were a part of him meant to help carry out his villainous plan, and they survived his death. Gamora thinks that those seeds can, I don't know, combine with my DNA or something to give me  
back my powers. I agreed, at first, and we visited a bunch of planets to try it out, but none of them work. They just kind of sparked and then fizzled out, every single time. After about a year or so, I finally put my foot down and we stopped."

"And she wants you to try one last time," Barton finished, nodding. "It might work."

"It won't," Peter snapped.

"This one shares your DNA, Qu- Peter," Barton pressed, pushing off the wall. "It's part Earth, part Celestial, just like you. Maybe the different planets were the problem."

 _That… actually makes sense._ "But I won't do it," Peter snarled. "I won't use those powers."

Realization flashed across Barton's face. "That's not the problem."

Panic zipped through Peter as he instinctively moved away. "Of course it is," he tried to insist quickly. Too quickly.

Barton followed him. "Obviously, your father stuck around your mother long enough to make sure she was pregnant, which means he probably did his universe-destroying business in the same area, which means you would have to go home to find that seed – and  
you don't want to go home, do you?"

Peter opened his mouth to deny it.

Nothing came out.

He looked away, closing his mouth, and let the silence answer for him.

But, to Peter's surprise, no "I told you so" left Barton's mouth. Instead, he whispered "I get the feeling."

Peter turned back to Barton. "What?"

Now Barton didn't look at him. "Two years ago, we had a… civil war of sorts, the Avengers. Both versions of the team, minus Thor and Hulk. We even dragged Peter and Scott into it. It was all so stupid, but we fought impulsively, and we all did things  
we regret. Nat and I were pretty much the only people without powers or armor or something, so we ended up fighting each other. I… I hurt the woman my kids call their aunt."

He paused for a moment before continuing. "The people who sided with Steve were forced into hiding after that. But I know I could've gone home – Stark never would've dragged my family into this by bugging my house or anything to trap me if I went back  
there. I know he never would've told the government about them so they could do that. But still, I didn't go back. For a year and a half, I pined over the moments I missed with my wife and kids, especially little Nathaniel. Until Wanda finally knocked  
some sense into me, anyway, and I've been a much happier man ever since."

Now he met Peter's gaze again. "You can't stay away forever, Peter. Your hometown is your hometown, for better or for worse." His mouth curved into a slightly mischievous grin. "Besides, I think Gamora at least deserves to see where the man she loves  
came from."

Peter wanted to laugh, but he could do nothing but remember two faces. "I don't even know if my grandparents are alive," he murmured.

 _"Your grandparents are alive and well,"_ an Irish female supplied briskly.

Peter jumped, looking around wildly. "What the-"

Barton held up a hand. "Relax, it's just Friday, Tony's AI."

"Oh," Peter muttered, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. "Do they still live in-"

 _"Yes. Your hometown has changed little, Mr. Quill."_

"I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse," Peter admitted, crossing his arms again.

Barton rested a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Just relax, Peter. I assume your father hid that seed somewhere remote, not in your grandparents' backyard, so we don't have to deal with that part yet. Let's just find the seed for now, all right?"

Peter eyed the older man. "I don't have a choice, do I, Barton?"

Barton shrugged. "I was trying to phrase it so it sounded like you did, but no, you don't really have a choice. We need everything we've got to beat Thanos. And call me Clint."

"Then I guess we're going to Missouri."

-GOTG-

Peter's heart thudded nervously, but he couldn't help leaning on Clint's chair to look out the window as they flew over Peter's hometown. Friday was right – it hadn't changed much. The cars were new, but most of the buildings still looked old and a little  
rundown. There was one area, though, where gleaming new buildings stood, backed against an area of forest populated by very young trees.

"There," Peter said, pointing. "That's the area that must've been destroyed when Ego got hold of me. Aw man, I loved that forest."

With the quinjet in stealth mode, Clint looked for an isolated spot to land. "You should stay on the ship, Gamora."

She simply glared at Clint. "I'm not letting Peter go out alone."

"He's not alone," Clint pointed out. "And you won't exactly blend in out here."

"We are not going close enough to the town for my face to be noticed," Gamora retorted, pulling on the gloves she had brought.

"She's not gonna give in, so we should just go," Peter told Clint, heading for the exit. The archer didn't look happy about it, but he followed the Guardians outside.

The warm southern air wrapped around him instantly, like a welcoming hug. Peter closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with childhood memories. Gamora wrapped one arm around him.

"It is beautiful here," she murmured.

Peter opened his eyes and looked at her, smiling softly at the way her curious gaze scanned every inch of the view. "I've seen prettier things."

Gamora rolled her eyes even as she smiled.

"Be sappy later, Peter," Clint rebuked, nudging him towards the old growth part of the forest.

"But it's fun," Peter protested, not wanting to think about the mission at hand.

Gamora tugged him forward. "Come on, Peter. The sooner we find that seed, the sooner we can go back to fighting supervillains."

Peter sighed and closed his eyes again, but this time for a different reason. He let Gamora take hold of one arm, feeling Clint do the same to his other side a few moments later, and together they guided him forward. Peter concentrated, reaching within  
himself to the dead space that had been born the moment Ego died, and waited. Soon, it would flicker with life, the flicker going stronger as he grew nearer to the seed. It was like playing a game of Hot and Cold.

 _A painful game,_ he thought as he inhaled sharply, the flicker of life burning his core.

"Which way?" Gamora asked, tightening her grip protectively.

Peter just moved instead of answering. Talking wasted time, and time created more pain. Gamora ducked under his arm as he moved, taking a little of his weight to help him forward.

"This is why we stopped doing this," Peter hissed, squeezing the hand she used to hold his.

"Just breathe," she counseled patiently.

"Does this happen every time?" Clint asked worriedly.

"Yes. It'll go away once he touches the seed," Gamora explained. "I think it's his DNA's need to be whole again doing this."

Their voices grated against his skull. "Please shut up," he requested through gritted teeth.

They obliged quickly. But someone else didn't.

"Who the hell are you people?"

Peter's eyes snapped open. "Grandpa," he rasped.

"Only one person gets to call me that, and he's been gone a long time," the man snarled.

Clint let go of him, their backs brushing as he moved protectively between Peter and his grandfather. "Mr. Quill?" he asked.

"How do you know that?" the man asked, his tone dripping with suspicion.

"Because this man really is Peter Quill, but before we can explain any further, he needs to do something."

"It won't harm anyone," Gamora added, her head ducked below Peter's shoulder.

A shotgun cocked. "All right. But do it fast."

Without hesitation or conscious thought, Peter's feet moved. He stumbled forward, Gamora doing her best to support him and hide her green skin.

Finally, beneath the shelter of towering oaks, he dropped to his knees and pressed his palms to the ground. "Come," he ordered, his voice steadied by the promise of power.

Instantly, the ground began to rumble. White light shone through the cracks, reaching for Peter's hands, twining around his fingers. His jaw gaped, and he might've gasped or he might've screamed – he couldn't tell. The seed itself finally burst forth,  
jumping into his hands as they clamped shut around it.

The world exploded in a flood of pure white light.

Then the white faded, replaced by the normal greens and browns of the forest, hints of blue sky and golden sunlight peeking through the canopy above. Hiding behind trees stood Clint, Gamora, and his grandfather, peering around the trunks with various  
expressions of awe and fading terror.

"That was new," Gamora observed dumbly, slowly emerging from her tree and stepping towards him. "Are you all right, Peter?"

Peter staggered to his feet, simultaneously energized and drained by the experience. He held his hands up, just the way Ego had shown him, and concentrated.

Strands of white power burst to life between them, coalescing into the first thing he had ever made: a ball.

"They're back," Peter whispered. He looked up at Gamora, who grinned at him. "They're back!"

"Damn," Clint said again.

"My God," Grandpa rasped. "Peter?"

Peter let the power vanish, turning to the man he hadn't seen in thirty years. "Hey, Grandpa," he greeted weakly.

Then his eyes rolled back and unconsciousness swept over him.

-GOTG-

He was stretched out on a loveseat when he came to, his knees on the armrest, his feet dangling. A blanket covered his legs and torso, his arms lying atop it. A quiet, three-way conversation happened behind the couch. Someone else sat beside him, dabbing  
at his forehead with a cool cloth.

"What…" he mumbled.

"Shh," someone soothed quickly, cupping one side of his face. "It hasn't been too long, sweetheart. Just take it easy."

Peter forced his eyes open anyway, barely managing a squint. "Grandma?"

She smiled at him, much older than he remembered, her hair now snow white. "I've missed you, Pete."

Feebly, he lifted a hand to hold hers, finding the strength to open his eyes more, to take in the cozy old room that had barely changed in so many decades. "I missed you, too."

"Your friends here weave quite the tale," Grandpa broke in, keeping his voice low.

Peter gave a little smirk. "I wouldn't believe it either, if I hadn't lived it."

Grandpa winced. "I am so sorry, Pete-"

"No," Peter cut him off, struggling to sit up. Grandma let out a noise of protest, but she helped him anyway, her supportive hands joined by Gamora's. "I've had a great life, Grandpa. I promise."

"You were raised by space pirates instead of your family!" Grandpa exclaimed.

"Yondu was family," Peter retorted. "So is Kraglin. I wouldn't change that for anything."

"So you don't want to be raised by us," Grandpa concluded, crossing his arms.

"That's not what he said," Grandma said.

"Look, I missed you guys. I missed you every day for thirty years," Peter began. "I wanted you when I was terrified of space pirates, when I was sick, when I nearly died, when I found out what a terrible father I had, when Yondu died. I wanted you when  
I went on my first date with Gamora, when I found out Mantis was my sister, whenever I hit a development milestone. _I missed you so much._

"But look at me now. Well, not right this second, but in general. The best woman in the galaxy loves me, my team and I have saved more lives than anyone can count, and I have _superpowers._ The journey was long and hard, but I wouldn't change now  
for anything."

Slowly, Grandpa nodded, accepting the explanation. He glanced at Gamora. "Well, how many grandfathers can say their grandson fell in love with an Orion?"

"A what?" Gamora wondered.

Peter laughed.

-GOTG-

Peter stood on the final battleground, surrounded by heroes. Around him, powers sparked to life, weapons armed, and masks went on. Beside him, Gamora unsheathed her sword and Clint loaded his bow. With the image of his grandparents' scared and loving  
faces flickering in his mind, Peter lit up his hand.

 _Maybe Ego wasn't all bad after all._

"You sure you're immortal again, Peter?" Clint checked.

With an order of "Hit it, Friday," from Stark, _Hooked on a Feeling_ started blaring over the battlefield.

Peter smirked, reaching behind him to form a massive mound of yellow rocks. "Let's find out, Arrow Bro."

Clint started to protest, then paused. "I actually don't mind that."

"And, Gammy – thank you."

Gamora smiled. "Happy to set you straight, as always."

"Hey!" Peter protested as Clint snorted.

Peter glanced back, focusing on his yellow rocks. "I'll set _you_ straight," he muttered.

"Is- is that _Pac-Man?"_ Stark exclaimed.

With an exaggerated arm gesture, Peter threw the round yellow videogame hero at their foe.

Thanos roared.

With exchanged glances and a shared battle cry, the heroes charged into battle.


End file.
